Of Northad and Earnur
by Hamfast Gamgee
Summary: A tale about the battle of Unnumbeard Tears. A little bit more information from myself as I can't seem to find any! The first chapter is fairly stable, but things will get a bit nasty in the next ones! Please Read and Review Thanks, Ham
1. Travelling up north

Of the tale of Northad and Earnur

**A little tale of mine about the battle of Unnumbered Tears. Disclaimer, the Silmarillion and its events are all Tolkien's as are the Elves and Men of that tale, I've just added a few minor OCs in the majesty of his tale. I have written this partly because I can't find anything extra about the Fifth Battle at all save what is in the Silmarillion in contrast to many of the other chapters. Thanks to my Beata!**

Grassy hills overlooked a fertile plain garnished with swift silvery streams. In the tall leafy, green trees, where there was just a hint of gold, birds sang and flew jauntily around. Ten figures emerged from a path in the woods. 'Northad, you have got us lost again. What happened to that famous Elven sense of direction?' asked one, with a sigh.

Northad, a young, slim Elf wearing green, blue and yellow looked in puzzlement at a map. 'No, no, I'm not lost, not at all, I know those mountains over there!' He pointed to tall mountains in the distance. 'Oh, all right, maybe that was one of my little jokes, perhaps we are lost! Still, we all agreed that we wanted to see a bit of the beautiful country, so now is our chance.'

The first lad sighed, 'Well, we are at least doing that!'

One girl in the group sat down suggesting, 'We could have some lunch perhaps?'

'Very well,' said Northad. Northad and the maiden were the only Elves in the party. The rest were mortal men. A brisk breeze blew around them as they all sat down to eat. 'Ah, what a nice refreshing drink,' sighed Northad, and he stretched his Elven legs out to the pale but wet green grass beneath his toes.

'Is that just water?' asked a young man called Earnur.

Northad coughed. 'Well, it does taste a little like Noldor beer.'

'Beer? Then I suggest you pass it around,' said Earnur.

Northad did this with a slight reluctance. The maiden suggested, 'But we ought to at least stick a little to the route which we agreed. If we concentrate, its surprising how many interesting birds we could see which dwell in these northern parts. I think I saw a mountain warbler just now!'

Northad laughed. He jumped up at a rock next to a stream. Nimbly, he leaped from rock to boulder across the water laughing and impressing the mortal Earnur. 'Why watch a bird fly when you can watch me dance!' he cried, showing off by dancing and nimbly leaping from boulder to boulder. But as he did so, Northad could see a cloud of dark smoke to the North.

The smile on Northad's face turned into a grimace when he turned his face northwards. Above the mountains he could see an unnatural gloom. Northad had only heard them vaguely up to now, but those tales that he had heard of the realm of Angband chilled his blood. He made a mental note not to travel that way if he could avoid it.

Northad jumped down from a craggy little boulder onto the muddy, slippery, cold, green grass. He ran back to the others. He had only just noticed the shadow to the North. 'We'd better be home by nightfall

The were all young. And Rhogusil was at that moment away up a tree looking at some sparrows. Rhogusil was a Green Elf. She was far more concerned about her trees, beasts and birds than the politics of Beleriand. She was a daugher of Yavanna in many ways, more so than was good in a manner. 'Do not worry,' said Earnur in a reassuring tone. 'We are many miles from the lair of the Dark Lord.'

'Oh, what can possibly happen?' Terglis said.

Northad remained unconvinced. 'Dusk is coming. Please, Earnur, let us go home now.'

'Really, Northad,' said Earnur, 'there is nothing to fear. Nothing at all. I think'

A threatening growl sounded from among the trees. The youngsters looked up as Orcs leapt out. Short, green, bow-legged well armed cruel servants of Morgoth. The Elves scrambled to seize what weapons they could. Earnur ducked and rolled as an Orc swung a scimitar at him. He saw a stick, picked it up and whacked the Orc on its bare shins. Northad pulled a sapling backwards, then released it. The sapling swished into the face of an attacking Orc, which dropped its sword. Northad dived, picked it up and slashed at the Orcs with it.

A loud battle cry followed by the thunder of horses' hooves filled the air**. **Northad recognized the approaching horsemen as allies. Hurin, a leader of men with his brother, Huor. The men charged at the Orcs which fled in terror or were slain at their approach. Hurin was a man with pale, flaxen hairand a bushy beard. He put a large hand upon Northad's shoulder. 'This is where you are! You didn't report back to us before nightfall**.** It can get dangerous around here at night. Didn't anyone tell you?'

'We lost track of time. But look to Terglis. He's hurt and it seems bad. Please help him!'

Terglis had collapsed to the ground clutching his chest in pain. Hurin looked at the wound, then with a worried frown, said 'Huor has the greater skill in healing Brother, come and take a look at this.'

Huor took a look at Terglis,chest but shook his head. 'This is bad. This arrow is tipped withslow-working poison. It's a cruel blow. He will die painfully within a day or so unless he gets more help**. ' **Huor looked around at the green hills to the West. 'We are not far from Fingon's forces. He is he High-King of the Elves, the mightiest in healing. He can help.'

Northad's hope dwindled. 'I will take Terglis on my horse,' offered Huor. 'We will meet you with Fingon's forces.' The Man picked up the stricken Elf and sat him on the horse, climbed up behind him, and rode away without a word, to find the Elven host which was not far away on the western slopes of the mountains of Ered Wethrim.

The moon was high in the sky when they finally arrived, but Fingon's servants reassured the Elves that their companion was out of danger and beginning to recover. Northad raced into the room where Terglis lay in bed, and was delighted to see him looking much better. Fingon frowned at Hurin, 'What were these young scamps doing around here? War will ride in these lands soon!'

Hurin laughed. 'It seems they thought they were safe in this part of the country. They are no warriors, though. We should send them home.'

Fingon gave a curt Elven nod.

'I am willing to fight, my lord,' said Terglis. He propped himself up on one elbow. 'I can wield a bow well enough, you cannot leave me without a battle in this greatest fight of our age. When the need arises, you will find that a mere mortal like myself has the heart of maybe, Feanor,' he knealt down.

'As can I,' declared Northad.

'Very well,' said Fingon, 'you may join my army.'

The following day, Northad took the opportunity to look around. He could see many fair and mighty Elven folk, clad in fine colours and arrayed in well-organised companies. They were confident and full of joy. One of his companions that accompanied him in his initial journey North, Duirion, put an arm around his shoulder. 'Surely we will have the day in the battle to come,' he declared.

'He did beat us last time,' countered Terglis.

'Yes, but Morgoth caught us unprepared. We and our Elven allies were possibly softened by years of peace. But now it is our turn. Did you know that one mere mortal man entered his Tower, in recent years, personally wrestled with the Lord of Despair and won back a Silmaril**?'** Duirion's knowledge of the journey of Beren and Luthien was a little mixed.

Northad marched over the river, across the plains of the fen of Serech, over the blue River of Rivil, and he looked around at the Elven warriors as he marched. The army of Gondolin to the right, the mighty men of the North to the left, and nearby**,** an army of stout Dwarves strengthened the force, clad in mighty Dwarven chan-mail, bearded, singing slowly and waving their axes in the air in anticipation of battle. Huor had also told Northad that even more Elves and Men were on the way**, **The powerful Sons of Feanor had yet to arrive.

Then someone pointed out to Northad the trees of Grimbolth on the far right. This was an eerie, dark-looking wood and Northad could see with his Elven sight the skeletons of Men that had been hung on trees. Terglis told him that these were a company of Men that in years past had been ambushed by the Wolves of Sauron and eaten alive.

Above the stony hills, Northad saw a cloud of black dust. Crows were flying ahead there and Northad caught his first sight of the forces of the enemy. Little, but many figures of Orcs in the distance and other creatures more fell. Smoke bellowed in the distance, the air darkened and there was a rumble both of thunder a flash of lightening and Northad was certain of the ground shaking beneath his feet. Angband had answered their challenge. Whatever was going to happen Northad suddenly realized that this was going to be a mighty clash between two strong armies. This was not going to be pleasant. He couldn't help but think that many of his allies, even the Lords amongst them were possibly a bit over-confident.


	2. Fingon

Of Northad and Earnur

The captains of the host held a conference in Fingon's main tent. Northad was outside looking onto the large, triangular tent with Earnur holding one of Huor's horses and feeding it with carrots out of his hand. The day was becoming darker instead of lighter and the flock of crows above grew larger and they cried overhead in anticipation of the death to come_. _Hurin and Huor looked around at the Elven Captains. Fingon said to them all, 'We are missing the sons of Feanor. We were told they would be accompanying us. We need their support for any assault upon anyone know where they are?'

Hurin said, 'They cannot be far away. But you are right, we need to know. I suggest we send a small, swift force to the East to find them. In the meantime we need to busy ourselves with organising our force. We need to position our forces on the mountains to counter any attack from Angband One person who accompanied these messengers was Terglis. He was an accomplished horseman and knew something of the area to the East, and Rhogusil agreed to go with him as well, at least for a time. They cried, 'Farewell,' to Northad as he and Rhogusil travelled of to the East in the gloom to try to find what had happened to the Maedhros and his brothers.

Northad was standing on a barren windswept hill with the Fen of Serech before him. It looked empty and harmless, but Fingon had assured them that if anyone did step foot upon it they would be slain by Enemy archers. A large army of Orcs slowly issued forth and offered a parley. But some parley! An Elven prisoner was brutally slaughtered in front of the watching Elves and Men.

Northad would not be parted from his comrades and so charged with them. Down the hill they thundered, an avalanche of Elven wrath. The dull light of the overcast day glinted off the tips of their spears and the arrows that rained on the Orcs, who fled in abject terror. The Elves chased after them, slaying any they could. But Northad found that slaying Orcs contrary to what some had told him, was a grim and grubby business with little of the glory he had always hoped to gain.

He saw their faces crumple and their bodies spill black blood as he lashed out at them with his sword. Northad couldn't help but feel a bit of pity. His pity faded as more Orcs crawled out of a nearby cave system followed by huge stony Trolls and other terrible creatures. Resolutely, Northad tightened his dirty slick fingers around the hilt of his sword and faced them with a snarl. A patrol led by Druilin dashed far forward and were quickly cut off. Northad couldn't see him any more in the gloom and the last he did see was Druilin surrounded by a far stronger force of foes and unable to receive aid. Arrows cluttered into the army

Some raised their shields to hold them off, but the arrows kept coming. Many fell with a cry to the muddy blood-soaked ground. Northad heard a cry he recognized. He turned around to see one of his companions he had come up with, Berglis, fall down dead with an arrow in his throat. The enemy closed in around him. Northad's throat went dry. He knew that, unless help came quickly, he would end up like Berglis. A massive Troll swung its huge iron club at him. Northad ducked and slashed at the Troll's stone-clad belly. Orcs surrounded them. 'I am alone', thought Northad. 'Where are my friends?'


	3. The Battle gets tough

But his particular duel didn't last very long. The Troll snarled and turned away, crashing into its own line. Trolls often did this in battle, they lacked any sense of purpose and did nearly as much damage to their own forces as to their enemy. The Dark Lord kept them as much for creating terror as anything else. Northad was pushed back towards the mountains, but he could see, though not give much direct aid, Fingon and Turgon on the battle site.

Meantime, Terglis and Mulling were journiying eastwoods. The small party they were in had not encountered anyone, but were in fact less than happy by this. They had been hoping to find Maedhros by now and his absence was causing concern. But Terglis saw nothing but Forest, Mountain, bog and an odd flash in the North, near to were they had departed.

As Terglis looked around, someone cried, 'Orcs!' and a strong force of Orcs appeared in full battle gear and armour, marching towards them, but had not spotted them as yet. Hopelessly outnumbered at this point, the Elves decided to use guile and cunning rather than force and hid amongst some trees the way in which only Elves can. Terglis dived under a bush.

But one Elf didn't hide carefully enough. He was unlucky as an Orc virtually walked right under him, looked up and gave a howl. The Orc pulled him down and several Orcs attacked the golden-haired Elf and his head was cut clean of, despite others of the party coming to his aid. Though they seemed to be about to suffer the same fate, when a trumpet blared out in the gloomy darkness and the Orcs moved hastily away, began running away in fact. Maedhros had finally arrived. And the Orcs were surrounded and slaughtered. Though not without loss and Terglis was nearly fatally wounded more than once.

Maedhros explained the delay. 'We were assailed by a force from Angband, which we had to prepare for!'

'A force that was curiously lighter than reports had made it,' growled one of his brothers, Caranthir. He was one of the more wild sons of Feanor. But more and more Elves from the forces of the sons of Feanor appeared from the woods, backed up from behind by Ufthang ahd his Easterlings, and began to march, or to ride towards the plain of the Fen of Sereech, singing as they went and their armour at least shone in the darkness.

Things were proving tougher for Northad than he had ever imagined. Although the Noldor and man army was re-inforced by the forces of Gondolin, the numbers of Orcs seemed uncountable and eight foot tall trolls made of stone was tough work for anybody and worse than these were the Balrogs, twenty feet tall, hairly, bear like with claws, vicious teeth and wielding whips of fearsome fear, though few in number were seemingly invincible to whatever the Noldor could throw at them.

Northad left hand was bleeding badly from his duel with the Troll. But that was the least of his problems. The temperature fell to near-freezing, cold wet, driving rain which splashed down upon the Army in the darkness. Northad was also concerned about a mortal companion, Druilin that had enthusiastically dashed on ahead with the large company of Elves that hammered upon the doors of Angband.

Northad was right to be concerned. Druilin had charged with the Elf, Gwindor through the forces of Morgoth, slaying many. But he was trapped on Angband's doors, opposed by multitudes of Orcs and even dragons and made worse by the fact that he was a mortal man and a little out of his depth in a battle amongst the Elder despite been nimble for one of his kind. But now a dragon caused large rocks to be dislodged and fell amongst the company along with arrows and flames. One rock fell upon Druilin's neck causing him to fall and choke. Druilin died slowly and in pain amongst the bodies of the Elder as he choked to death on his own windpipe.

The coming of an even darker, cold night bought a little relief. The army of Beleriand was able to retreat to the foot of the Mountains while there was a rota to take up a defensive shield-wall against the creatures of Angband, others were able to take much needed rest, food and healing. Northad was sitting on a rock with Earnur and both were patching up their wounds as best they might.

Earnur was bleeding from a deep cut on his face that would last till the end of his life. Although Northad was thinking this might not be too long. Northad suggested, 'Look, this isn't going well. I don't think many will survive. What about you and I just slip our way to the back and slope of, unnoticed?'

Northad saw flames exploded in the darkness behind Earnur. But Earnur's face was unimpressed and hard. In fact, he responded to Northad's suggestion by giving him a firm slap around the face. 'Well, it appears that it takes a mere mortal like myself to remind one of the Eldar race of their duty. We won't get away for one. Behind us are many companies of Orcs only to happy to prey on individual stragglers. For two, what of our purpose here? You would fly when the going is grim and leave Morgoth to have his will? You can't fly from him forever, Morgoths arm grows long. So I for one say we stand here and fight. You with me?' With a certain amount of reluctance, Northad agreed.

Day, as it were dawned, though one could scarce have noticed as the light was no more than a slender dusk and there was little relief to the cold. Northad was forced back into the fray. Onto the battlefield he saw many bodies of the fallen which he had to step over. He saw one corpse was that of one of his companions from his initial trip up here only days ago, but to Northad it seemed years. He looked at the corpse, stiff, bleeding from wounds, holding a sword in its hand. Northad was thinking he liked not that grinning type of honour.

But now, Morgoth's forces were upon him again. Heavily armoured Orcs with Scimitars, Trolls, Wolves howled, Dragons were around belching flame, giant Balrogs roared and beat down any opposition. It was noisy. And Northad was finding out an odd thing. He had heard of mighty warriors that could kill individual Orcs in many numbers. Especially if the Orcs were in woods which they didn't know. But here, with the will of their Lord behind them, in battle readiness in their own country backed up by other creatures it was very much a different story.


	4. The end of the army

Fingon and the Royal guard were finding things tough as well. He was now attacked by one of the Balrogs that bellowed in front of him, towering above the Elven-lord. In the meantime, Turgon, Hurin and Huor were cut of and pushed back amongst the freezing mud to the Hithilum mountains, Hurin and Huor were wielding black swords against the tide of foes and barking orders to their companies.

With a thrust from some Orcs, Northad was unwillingly pushed onto the fighting group around the Elven high-king. As he was there, Northad felt duty bound to aid his Lord even though the kingship was a vague one. But Fingon was duelling with a Balrog and though performed as capably and heroically as anyone could, Fingon was thoroughly occupied.

Another Balrog towered over Northad and snarled. Northad was beaten to the ground painfully and looked up, expecting death as he could do nothing against such a mighty creature. But fortunately for Northad, the Balrog roared and snapped its teeth at some arrows that flew against it and marched over Northad to join in the battle against Fingon. But it was an unnerving sight watching the Balrog blow red fire high above his head. Northad did wonder then how Terglis was faring.

Terglis was fighting hard in the Eastern battle. He could just make out Fingon's banner in the gloom in the distance. It might have been selfish of him, but now he was concerned with mere survival than victory. He heard a great shout and looked to the ranks of the enemy. Glaurung the mighty Dragon was making his way through the Orc-ranks. He lifted up his scaly head and roared. The Orcs cried in support and the Trolls beat their stone clubs on the ground as Glaurung approached.

The Elves drew closer together and crouched down. Glaurungs scally claws smashed the air, crushing Elves, Men and more than one or two Orcs of his own side. Glaurung was now coming uncomfortably close to Terglis as he cut of the legs of an Orc. Despite this been midsummer up in the north, driving heavy, freezing rain fell at an angle onto his face and the cold wind blew and it was muddy underfoot.

But his allies were still many and strong. Thousands of Elves and mortal allies. Glaurungs fire and claws were halted by the axes of the Naugrim and while he charged at them, scattering some Dwarves, he was repelled more than once. The Dwarves waved their axes to the air, and Terglis saw Glauring retreating from the field and black blood flowed from a wound in his body.

However the Dwarves had given up too. Their lord appeared to have been killed and this was enough for the rest of them. Terglis watched as the strong force of Dwarves slowly retreated and none stopped them. Terglis turned and asked someone, 'So those Dwarves are just leaving are they?'

'Do you want to stop them?' replied Amrod, a son of Feanor to him.

Just then there was a new shout. The Easterlings were now charging upon the Elves. It took time for these events to become clear to Terglis, but clear it became as the Easterlings were slaying Elves whenever they could find and indeed some of their arrows landed at his feet. The sons of Feanor were now fighting on two fronts, the Orcs at the front and the Easterlings in their rear.

The Elves and the Sons of Feanor took this betrayal as a personal rebuff as indeed it was. Forgetting almost the other forces of the Lord of Angband they charged into the Easterlings cuting through them like a fire. Terglis was nearby to see the confrontation between Maedhros, Maglor and the leaders of the Easterlings. With a stroke of his sword, Maglor slew Ulfthang and disarmed Ultfasht, his brother. Maglor stood over Ulfthast, sword in hand. Ulfthast knew he was facing death and pleaded for his life. But Maglor was more than a little frustrated by the turn of events and was in no merciful mood.

Maglor answered, 'Only he that sits on the throne of Angband may betray the sons of Feanor and yet live. You are not he, therefore die!' and decapitated the unfortunate Easterling. This was slightly acting out of character for Maglor, but he was in a desperate mood. But then new forces of Easterlings marched out of the eastern hills under the new leader Olthod who proved to be more cruel than his predecessors had been and the sons of Feanr were forced to retreat.

In the west, Northad was thinking that through the dark mist and clouds of Crows dominating the supposedly summer sky, but it seemed more like a deeping dusk, he could just make out Terglis to the East. But just then a Troll kicked him in his chest, breaking a rib and Northad fell down in the mud. In his pain he could see the final moments of the High-King Fingon.

Isolated Fingon was in a one to one duel with a Balrog, his guard eliminated or occupied. The tall Balrog whipped a whip of fire at the Elven Lord. In reply with some effort, Fingon cut the whip in two with his sharp sword. But the Balrog still snarled and hit Fingon with his paw. Fingon was rocked back but still cried out and cut the Balrog again with his sword, despite blood flowing from Fingon's skull. A bright light shone in his eyes as he fought the Demon from the dungeons of the North.

But a more deadly look came from the Balrog's face. Fingon was alone but he was possibly the only being in Beleriand that could fight the creature. But Fingon was undone by another Balrog coming up to him from behind, tying Fingons body with his whip. Together the two Balrogs were too much for Fingon and he screamed in pain as they tore him to pieces and his blood flowed onto the ground, amongst the other prone corpses of the fallen.

The light had never been much and there was an army of crows fling in the air and a black storm filled the sky and the only light was the odd flash of bright white lightening as the rain poured down. But one thing was clear to Terglis was that he was hopelessly outnumbered by both the Easterlings and the Orcs. Elves were flying to the mountains away as fast as they were able. Terglis ran sore, cut and blooded legs, minus several toes due to his injuries sustained in the Battle up sharp rocks and stones following the sons of Feanor.

But swifter than he ran a strong, hairy, horned Balrog. It's fire exploded amongst the Elves giving death to many of the few remaining survivors. The Balrog came facing Maedhros. Was another Lord of the Elves going to be slain? But the Balrog seemed more interested in humiliating the Elder son of Feanor than actually killing him. The Balrog bit of Maedhros's helmet, cut the Elf deeply across his chest, then bit of part of one of his feet. A halt foot to go with his broken arm. It then threw Maedhros down a hill making him limp away from the field and the other sons of Feanor were scattered.

Terglis had no time to wonder over this. His remaining allies were few and were been slain or fleeling or surrendering. This gave Terglis a little idea. He was not unskilled and the thought occurred that if he surrendered and perhaps made some kind of offer to work under the Orcs his skills might be recognized. It might not have been in the best interests of Man and Elvs but Terglis was sick now of all war and conflict and was wishing he'd never heard of Angband, Hithilum or anywhere else in the far North.

As a plan for survival it was probably better than fighting to death anyway. Nearly worked as wel. Terglis was herded with the rest of the prisoners into a pen and stripped of weapons. For a time nothing happened, but after a while, the Captain of Angband's forces clearly decided he had no wish for prisoners and a Balrog gave and order and the evil Orcs gleefully slew all of the prisoners cruelly, Terglis having his back broken by a stony club.

In the Western battle matters were grim. Fingon and most of his people were slain. The bodies of the Elder, Men and Orcs lay on the mud and dust of the battlefield. The Dwarves and the sons of Feanor had fled. Facing the entire hosts of the creatures of Angband were only the Elves of Gondolin and the Men of Hithilum stood firm. But as they retreated, slowly back to the Hithilium mountains, arrows after arrows from the enemy rained down upon them.

Northad was also concerned with his own problems. He was lying on a shield as though dead, but in fact he was badly wounded, though in much pain. A hastily made bandage covered his forehead but only partially stopped the bleeding. One of his ribs were broken, and his right arm which he held limply at his chest and he also bled from many cuts, large and small.

But now he was carried up, and it seemed the folk of Gondolin were retreating. yet the Men lead by Hurin were covering their retreat in what seemed to be a last ditch stand. A stand in which Northad really couldn't see any surviving. But Earnur was still alive. Northad was hearing him talking to Turgon the Gondolin ruler. Turgon said, 'Earnur you are a decent young man. You don't have to die as well. Come with us, back to our City, hidden in the mountains. There you will be treated well!'

Earnur looked like he wasn't sure what to do. Northad thought, 'Don't be a blasted hero, Earnur, come back with us! You are lucky to have been given this chance, Turgon obviously likes you! Don't throw it away! You'll be alive at least, Dellin loves you!'

Earnur replied as the rain splashed across his face crying, 'I don't want to die. But how can I desert my own people' What will that say of me? I am only young, but if they die, then I will die with them. Maybe I can see some hope. At the last something might happen to save us!' Earnur didn't look very convinced that something would happen to save them. No other forces were on their way and the armies of the Dark Lord had proved strong.

'What could happen here, now apart from death? Oh you blasted fool!' thought Northad.

But Turgon replied, 'If thas is you will, then so be it!' and gave a salute.

Northad wept as he saw his friend march away to face certain death. It came as no surprise for him to learn that none of those men survived. 'What a complete disaster!' Northad thought as he was carried into retreat with the rest of the badly wounded in what was a pitiable procession. Most of our Armies destroyed, Fingon killed, much of the Elder killed and all of the Men. All of the party I was with here only days ago are dead, save Mulling, but thats she didn't take part. I cannot walk and I don't know if I'll surive,' he was in great fear.

As it happened he did make a partial recovery from most of his wounds, but from some he never did. His right arm never felt right for the rest of his life. He smiled as Rhogusil wiped the wound a little from his head. She had not been in the battle at all, having little interest in such matters. Northad was thinking that perhaps she has been the wisest of all of them. A strong, yellow-haired commander of Turgons folk passed. Northad painfully turned and asked him, Glorfindel, 'To were are we heading?'

'To Gondolin,' Glorfindel replied.


End file.
